Random thoughts

70 : Short story

(A/N: I put this one as 70 instead of 69 because I wanna keep the number of parts the same as the labels.)

Story title: My love

    I take a seat the tree we first met at.
We never carved our initials in the tree, though I wish we did. Nor did we kiss under the stars on the hill, but I wish we did that too.
Maybe if I could see into your mind it would've been better. But it's too late for that now, isn't it?
Is it weird that I can remember how your skin felt, though we never touched? How your lips would feel against mine, though they never met?
False memories of you and I, closer than they would deem necessary. But they've never been in love, have they?
Why do I think so many thoughts that you can't hear. I wish so much that I could hold you near, but you'll never know, will you?
Sometimes I wish I could cry. But I can't, I've run out of tears. Sometimes I wish we could have run away, though no one cared that I love you.
Maybe you loved me. But I'll never know, will I?
Graves can be many things. They can be words carved into rock. Or they can be a place in your head, where the ones that you fell out with lay.
That's kind of random, I know. But sometimes I wonder why we choose to decide who's alive or dead in our heads.
They could be fine, but dead to you. Or they could be dead, but fine to you. You get to decide in your mind.
After long hours spent under the tree, I place down my flowers. They're yellow. I remember how you loved yellow.
Rest In Peace, my love.